Heart Work

Pulling the motor.

Needing to do that is a sobering thought, as is requires an immediate commitment of labor and funds, along with a sacrifice of garage space.  Taking this step is an acknowledgement that the car isn't OK, that I need to take action, that I shouldn't just keep everything packed away neatly and work on it later.  It is messy, but a key step toward cleaning up the mess.  Taking this kind of redemptive step is something my family tended to avoid when I was growing up.  We had so many projects packed away "to do later" that we couldn't remember them all.  Things got bad when that list included fixing the clogged kitchen sink, fixing the back steps, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, and washing the dishes.  I have seen procrastination turn very ugly... In the long term, I am afraid of it.  In the short term, I'm afraid to get started.  Starting a project in earnest is always unsettling.  Something gets disturbed.  People are inconvenienced, and it will be my fault.  Unsettled.  That's how I feel.

My Dad and I built a Heathkit color TV together when I was in Jr High.  The TV was pretty awful, and it cost more than a new already-built one.  Financially, it didn't make sense.  It was inconvenient.  We took over the dining room table for a couple of months. But, on an emotional level, it was the best thing he could have done for our relationship!  I spent many happy hours with Dad working on that TV.  Sometimes, inconvenience is worth it.  

Pulling the motor also risks chafing the aesthetic sensibilities of my neighbors.  My garage is pretty tight.  I will need to wheel the t-bird onto my driveway, and use a cherry picker to pull the motor in front of God and everybody.  I live on the corner of a tee intersection, in a very tidy white-collar neighborhood.   Every car that comes up the hill to my street has a clear view of my garage.  I usually work with the garage door open, at least during the day.  While a part of me is a little embarrassed to have my neighbors see my ugly car, I starting to believe that leaving the garage open while I work could also be an invitation for relationship.  A motor on a an engine stand is, after all, a guy magnet.  

So, if I need to spend serious time and effort reconstructing the heart of the t-bird, what is God telling me to do with my own heart?  I've known for a long time that there is something "not quite right" in there, that my desires occasionally run in directions that I don't quite like.  I have been in recovery for many years, and through God's grace have achieved a degree of external sobriety.  I've completed 3 different step studies, and I've learned something about myself each time.  I've surrendered, I've inventoried, I've made amends, but I keep coming back to the feeling that I need to address something deeper.  There is a valve seat or a wrist pin or a cam follower deep inside my heart that needs attention, something that hasn't been addressed in over 40 years.  My heart won't run right until I decide to let God and I pull it out together, and do a major overhaul.  It will take time.  It will take work.  It will be inconvenient to have my heart spread out all over the garage.  My family and neighbors might object.  I'm a little afraid of stepping into this project.  

But, it may create opportunities for deeper relationships.  It may even help other men decide to let God into their own hearts.

I choose to believe that God will be with me, that he will honor my decisions, and that in the long run, the time, effort, and inconvenience will be worth it.